Diatribe
by BJArthur
Summary: Day time heat and violence make dark nights burn. A dark one-shot, but in the most wonderful way.


hallo!! so with the sun shining, i've been thinking new thoughts and this is what came out. it was just one of those things that was rolling around and when i hands hit the keyboard i couldn't exactly stop myself from making this come to life. i know that there are probably a lot of stories out there just like this one, but i simply couldn't help myself! read, have fun, and don't forget to tell me what i need to fix.

as always, nothing you recognize is mine.

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**Diatribe: a bitter, sharply abusive denunciation, attack, or criticism.**

Ginny stared straight ahead, eyes unseeing, unfocused on the world surrounding her. It was a defence strategy; if she paid attention to things she'd break. If she heard his words, they'd cut; if she looked into his eyes, she'd bleed. It wasn't worth the pain to sit there and listen, look, interact with him while he sliced and hacked away at those around her, at her. She was his and she knew it, he knew it and loved it. Holding that ownership over her was one of his most favourite past-times. So to keep sane, she only paid him any attention when they were alone. He hated it, wanting her to look at him once, just once to acknowledge his presence while among others, so he spat harder, glared sharper, attacked with such vigour he surprised even himself with what came out of his mouth. But her defence was unflappable, her mental armour un-pierced by any verbal sword.

Her friends wondered why she still met up with him in the dark hours, why she put up with his vile mouth during the day. What they didn't know was that she didn't put up with it; she simply shut-down whenever he approached with that condescendingly sexy sneer on his angular face, intoxicating cold poison in his steel-coloured eyes. And when they met in the dark hours, it wasn't him softly loving her and apologizing for the evil, day-light monster he had to become because his father or society made him be the way he is; they _ripped _into one another, his complete ownership of her driving him as her anger for taking his shit reigned over her. It was fast and it burned and it was so different then anything else they had ever encountered, and it was outstandingly addictive. He _forces _her to pay attention to him at night; she retaliates the way she _won't_ during the day. They push each other to limits unmatched by any other.

Her family knows. They've confronted her about it. Ron raged; her mum screamed; the twins plotted needless revenge; Percy lectured for hours; her father grew purple in the face and forbid her from seeing him ever again; Bill and Charlie sent her baffled letters asking what exactly was going on; Harry just stared at her, glass green eyes both sad and confused. Hermione still talks to her, but won't look her in the face. The whole time she was being raged at and questioned and lectured to, Ginny imagined his hands on her, his skin sliding over her, his pulse pounding over her heart, inside of her. She listened, she understood their worry and anguish, but she couldn't explain it to the men. She had talked to her mum about what Draco _made _her feel, what he _did _to her body, eyes closed and with a vocabulary she didn't even know she possessed. Molly hadn't liked it, didn't enjoy knowing that her only daughter, her little baby girl, was giving herself nightly to a boy, to the enemy, was allowing herself to be taken with such vigour and passion and _violence_. But Molly did understand; she _knew _the passion, the fire a person could feel with their opposite, with the most wrong person for them in the whole world. Yes, Molly knew all too well, having felt it herself.

In a distorted sort of way, Molly Prewitt Weasley was amused at how history tended to repeat.

Lucius Malfoy was amused as well, though his distortion came naturally.

"Like mother, like daughter," Lucius would whisper as he pounded into her, pushing her to the edge, making Molly beg for what Arthur couldn't give her.

Ginny couldn't stop it if she tried. She needed the release he gave her, the emotional _wreckage _left in his wake. There was nothing he said that didn't kill her just a little, no place on her body that didn't tingle when he touched her. It was an addicting circle of mental pain and physical pleasure, completely unhealthy for all involved but no one dared stop.

"Your sister's a _whore_."

"You should hear the way she _screams _and _begs _for more."

"The most _talented _cock-sucker I've _ever _deep-throated."

"She gets wet just knowing I'm in the same _building_."

She'd bite his lips until they bled, pump him hard then stop just before he came and make him wait for it. Ginny didn't understand why he spoke about her that way; maybe he enjoyed the hot anticipation their night time endeavours provided. No, that wasn't a maybe; that was a _definitely_. Just like Ginny _definitely _liked the way his silk school tie felt around her wrists when he bound her just a little too tightly to the bed post, the way his tongue took her to heights only he could force her to, the way their tastes mingled in her mouth when their lips met. He'd belittle her and she'd ignore him during the day, and at night they'd torture each other in the most _magnificent ways_.

Nothing was simply for show; they weren't secretly in love with each other. _Everything _was real and the _only _thing they loved was the burning sensation the other caused within them. Ginny loved the raw feeling between her legs as she took notes in class; Draco loved the sharp sting he felt in the shower when water hit the scratches she left him. Those were little reminders they'd think of all day long, in the Great Hall, in the crowded corridors, in between their professor's droning voice.

It was painful, and it was pleasurable, and there was no way they'd ever stop.

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tada! MOLLY!!! I'M SHOCKED!! how could she! well, she needs to have a scathing/really fun and meaningless affair too; Arthur's just so sweet sometimes that bad boys are the only answer for all that sap. if Ginny and Harry got married, she'd still end up boinking Draco's brains out, just like her mother gets boinked by Lucius.


End file.
